


His

by vogue91



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character, POV First Person, Rare Pairings, Secret Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 07:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13970013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: I was captivated. She had entered arrogantly inside my home, inside my life. Inside my head. In everything, there she was, with all those small details making her unique.





	His

A curse. That’s what she was.

That candour that I saw glimpsing at her skin was so different. It didn’t speak of death like mine, or that of the others.

She was alive. And I was never going to be again.

I was captivated. She had entered arrogantly inside my home, inside my life. Inside my head. In everything, there she was, with all those small details making her unique.

I knew from the start that she was going to be a problem.

It had been more than a year. I would’ve remembered that moment forever.

Her scent had hit me, it had hurt me. And at the same time, I had felt Edward’s reaction. I knew that the destiny of a life had been marked, that day. It would’ve been mine or his.

Today I can say it, it was my life which end had been written. Yet the hangman hadn’t been that sharp, lethal and simply paradisiac scent. It was all she was, it was how she was different.

I had lost inside her eyes. I looked at Alice, and hers were so similar to mine, to the ones on each of our faces. Their nuances depended only on when and how we fed.

Hers expressed everything. Had I spent my time watching them, I wouldn’t have needed my gift to know how she felt.

I’ve always been cold. I control emotions, mine before those of others, way better than I can do the thirst.

And I don’t know if it’s thirst that has unleashed that storm that for me is her.

The worst moments are when she blushes. When her blood, that delicate nectar, flows to her cheeks, and the smell invades my senses. She’s never more beautiful than that.

Too many times I’ve dreamed of playing with that skin. It’s fragile like a crystal, Bella. And I’m stone. My hands are stone, my heart is too.

I wish I was allowed, even for just a moment, to feel the wind on my skin, to close my eyes, open them back and find out that the wind is nothing but her. Her, with her awkwardness, her naivety. Her, so insignificant, yet so precious. Her, that will never love me.

Edward knows. He gazes into my thoughts and finds her face. He’s never said a thing. But I believe he’s never hated his gift this much. That he’s never desired so much to shut up the voices coming from my mind.

She’s sitting on our couch. Victoria is getting closer, and we’ve got to protect her. They’re all hunting, and I’m left alone with her. Alone in that house, which walls close on me, and the only space I can occupy is next to her.

Her gaze his assorted; she’s worried, I can feel it. She’s worried about him, she doesn’t want for something bad to happen to him.

I breathe in, filling my lungs with that scent, and sit next to her.

She turns and manages to smile. But I know nothing in the world is more fake than that smile.

“Hi, Jasper.” she says. I smile back. I wish I could scream.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, and she shrugs.

“Edward.” she replies, sighing.

I know you’re thinking about Edward. You always do. There’s nothing else for you.

I understand how that feels.

“You’ll see, everything’s gonna be ok.” I try to reassure her. I wish I could hug her, explore that territory so prohibited and unknown.

“I hope so. I couldn’t stand if something bad were to happen to any one of you.” I smile again.

“Don’t worry so much about us, Bella. Think about yourself.” I tell her, as usual surprised by her spirit of sacrifice. Bella has always put others first, and this is all part of who she is.

“I don’t care about me.” she blushes again. “For me you’re like a family.” she murmurs. And do I, Isabella, need another sister? You can’t even imagine it. I need someone to make me feel alive, one last time.

I look at you, I look for something I’ve never found, something averting my mind from madness. But it has never been there, there never will be. You’re everything.

You’re wearing a light blue shirt. It suits you, this colour, it makes you shine, more than any spring Forks has known. You’ve never cared much, after all. You wish you could disappear from other people’s eyes, while you don’t see how it would maim the beauty of the world itself. You’re life, you’re the purest source ever created. You’re the best copy Mother Nature has ever made of herself.

Perhaps this is why my brother smells flowers in you. Freesias, he says. I don’t know what the other can smell, perhaps they’re indifferent to them, one of the many. In your scent, Bella, I smell burning wood. I see the fire, I see that passion you don’t even know you own.

I understand my brother’s frustration. I’ve desired as well to get lost inside that mind’s recesses, virgin to any intrusion.

What are you truly thinking about, Isabella Swan?

You don’t know what you can unravel. You’re the most cruel natural disaster ever existed. You damage hearts, hearts that can’t beat, but that have never wanted so much to.

“Jasper.” she calls.

“Yes, Bella?”

“Do you believe your brother will decide to turn me in the end?” she asks. I wasn’t expecting this answer. That night I said yes, and I did because I knew it’s what you wanted. But nobody understands what kind of crime would be turning off your heart, ruining that face of celestial creature, to confer it demonic traits. I shrug, and I don’t answer.

I’ve reached my limit. I’ve hurt you, Bella. I could’ve killed you. But I don’t want to let others do it.

I wish you were mine. My Bella. Never has hurt so much being aware of something. What have I done during these years but waiting for you? Your perfection. Your laughs, your cries, your emotions. Any small part of you.

I love you, Isabella Swan. And you will never know.


End file.
